Toby
by Sherlockian87
Summary: Toby decides to sit in Sherlock's chair. Sherlock will have none of that!


Toby

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><p>Ever since Molly had moved in to 221B there had been an ongoing battle. A battle between Sherlock and Toby. It appeared that the cat had a shrewd intellect and knew exactly when and where Sherlock desired to sit or sprawl himself out. Most of the time, Sherlock knew how to get Toby to scram. But not today, today was different. Toby was curled up on Sherlock's chair.<p>

He stared down defiantly at the feline. Toby merely looked at him through half-closed eyes and even had the audacity to purr.

"Get off!" Sherlock snarled.

Toby only gave a meow in return, as if to say, "Why?"

With a low growl Sherlock whipped out his phone, snapped a photo and then fired off a text to Molly.

"Your damn beast won't remove itself from my chair! – SH"

"Aw! Just give him a nudge, isn't that what you always do? – Mx"

"I don't want his claws to scratch the leather! – SH"

"He doesn't have claws, Sherlock! – Mx"

"His back paws do! – SH"

Several minutes passed before Molly sent a reply. Sherlock had spent the time pacing. Toby had given another soft mewl before laying his head down and going to sleep, looking rather content.

"Pick him up then? – Mx"

"Absolutely not! Can't you come home and move him? – SH"

"Sherlock! NO! I'm working! I am not going to come home just to move my cat! Sit on the sofa for Christ's sake! – Mx"

"But I want to sit in my chair! – SH"

A whole minute passed before she sent her reply.

"Figure it out yourself genius. I have work to do. – Mx"

With an indignant huff Sherlock placed his phone on the coffee table before crossing his arms in front of his chest. He proceeded to study Toby, who was in fact happily asleep.

When Molly came home three hours later she expected to find Sherlock triumphantly sitting in his Toby-less chair. But, that was not how it was. Not at all. Toby was still on Sherlock's chair, as was Sherlock, albeit Toby looked far more comfortable than he.

"Sherlock … what?"

Molly stood in amazement that the World's Only Consulting Detective hadn't been able to remove a cat from his precious chair. Sherlock was in fact sitting upon the smallest portion of the cushion, his long legs dangling over the side. Toby was contentedly taking up the majority of it.

"Oh … hello Molly."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Made a compromise did you?"

Sherlock grimaced slightly, "Yes."

Shaking her head she walked over and scooped up Toby in her arms. He let out a loud purr. Sherlock sighed happily, sinking down onto the entire cushion that was now once more entirely his.

"Unbelievable." Molly muttered under her breath as she fed Toby, "He's able to get you off any other piece of furniture, but when it comes to his beloved chair it's as if his brain short circuits!"

"I can hear you!" Sherlock called out to her from said chair.

Rolling her eyes she washed her hands and walked back out to Sherlock. He was sitting quite comfortably now.

"Is there room for me? Or are you entirely against sharing now?"

He grabbed her hands, "For you, always."

She straddled his waist, her knees coming to rest on either side of his hips. He had let go of her hands, his were now placed on the small of her back, his fingers laced together. Molly had draped her arms over his shoulders.

"If that happens again, which I can assure you it will, just entice him with some of his treats!"

"But I don't want to reward him for doing something he shouldn't! He'll end up associating going on my chair with getting a treat!"

Molly counted to ten inside of her head, "Fine then. Continue to sit in that incredibly odd fashion that I walked in on!"

Sherlock shrugged, seeming to accept his fate. But Molly wasn't easily fooled; she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What is it about him sitting on your chair that bothers you so much? You easily remove him when he is anywhere else!"

Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment. Molly waited patiently.

"It's uhh … it's the fact that it's my chair. He's never sat in it before. Why is he suddenly doing that?"

Molly held back the urge to roll her eyes, "He likes you Sherlock. When cats like you, they tend to enjoy occupying the same places that you do."

His only reply was a humph.

"Admit it Sherlock, you like him too."

"I suppose so."

She giggled, "I think Toby won that round."

Sherlock pulled her closer, giving her a kiss, "I'm still not letting him into the bedroom though."

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